


Broken

by mrs_pennylane



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Best Friends, Characters will be added as the story goes, Male Bonding, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, This is bromance!Hynequinn, Which means... no romance between them but I am going to explore another side of the boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_pennylane/pseuds/mrs_pennylane
Summary: Michael Quinn is a war hero who continues to do a lot for his country through the Air Force. But what happens to his mind when he doesn't have Project Blue Book, flying and the Air Force to distract him? Is he able to live in peace with his own thoughts?(On a short hiatus but rest assured I'll get back to it as soon as I feel up to)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this story in the last few weeks and I think Quinn has a great potential to be explored in terms of character development. I decided to add my fair share of insight on that part of Quinn's character.  
> As you can see in my tags, I decided this is going to be a bromance Hynequinn only because I'd like to focus first on Michael's feelings and then explore a little how two men can connect on a deep level that goes beyond romance or anything like that.  
> Shout out to [@thequeenofdrama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeenofdrama) for listening to me babbling and bothering her with ideas and headcanons about Hynequinn! Sometimes my mind doesn't stop.

Michael woke up with a jolt, his shirt sticking to his body due to the sweat coming out of every pore of his being. 

_What’s…. What’s happening?_

His mind was confused and he could feel his heart beating so fast it felt like it was right there on the surface of his skin. It had been a while since the last time he dreamed about the war and everything he saw there - his friends dying, the other soldiers and sergeants wounded in the infirmary, the sounds of the bombs exploding -, all in one messy and disturbing pile of memories. 

He tried to count the last time he had had nightmares… _One, two, three, four years?_ And ever since then, he hadn’t stopped even once in his routine. He worked out early every single day, he went to work and only left late, he hit bars and clubs (looking for a distraction, really) and he only came back home when it was late. And when he didn’t follow that strict routine, he skipped the bars and clubs and took refuge in the planes, or training younger pilots. Keeping his mind full was all he had.

But it wasn’t enough and he added Project Blue Book to the equation, and professor Allen Hynek for that matter, who consumed a lot of his time and energy with his scientific talk, his need to get himself into dangerous situations and his stubbornness (which was a blessing now, because otherwise they wouldn’t have made Blue Book so big as it is now). They travelled, dealt with crazy town people and debunked their cases. A lot of things to fill Quinn's brain.

And then the generals had the most brilliant idea: he should take a month off, since he hasn't for years. Only it was a damn stupid idea because now, two weeks into his little vacation, he was losing his mind. And he was also drinking a lot more than usual, which was… a huge problem for him. He already drank his fair share normally.

Quinn drove his gaze to the bathroom's door and decided to get rid of the wet shirt, and take a shower. He stumbled a little on his own feet when he got up and that was when he noticed he was shaking, his leg had turned to jelly. 

With much effort, he made it to the bathroom, tossing his clothes aside and stepping into the shower stall. The water was cold and because of the heat and the trembling of his body, it was actually a relief to feel a contrast on his skin and it woke him up immediately. The dizziness subsided a little and he ran a hand on his face, spreading water. _I am losing my mind completely._

That scared the hell out of him, thinking he could never go back to being the same man he was before. But who was he anyway if not a man who used routine to bury his own feelings? His loneliness? Because it seemed like he was naive enough to think routine could heal him. Bullshit.

_I can't even fucking take some time off that my screwed up brain decides to fuck me._

He wanted to punch the wall so badly and yet, the logical side of his brain said that it wouldn't help at all. And it definitely wouldn't. So he let the cold water run down his hair, face, back until he felt strong enough to step out of the shower. The general shakiness had gone away but there was still that terrible feeling of something crushing his chest, taking the oxygen out of his body. 

Quinn didn't want to call Hynek, it was late and if he called, he would wake up his kid and wife too, so it would be a whole mess. However, he didn't feel safe feeling those things, his own body playing a game against him. He debated about that for at least an hour, a silent battle between anxiety and logic. In the end, despite every single reason his anxiety gave for him not to call, he decided to do it. Michael Quinn didn't have anyone to call when he needed, except the professor. So he did, and at the third ring, a hoarse voice picked up.

_"Hello?"_

"Doc?"

_"Quinn? It's… uh, late. What happened?"_

"I'm so, so sorry for calling, doc. I'm just…" Michael tried to find the words but they got stuck in his throat. Allen was quick to pick up the clues though.

_"Are you feeling okay, captain?"_

There was a hint of concern in his voice and Michael sighed. This was too fucking hard.

"No." Michael finally answered, sighing. "I feel like my mind is everywhere."

_"Did you get some sleep?"_

Michael looked over at the watch and noticed he had slept for 3 hours, which was a lot considering he barely slept for 2 hours on the other nights.

"A little. Not much, though."

_"Are you eating well?'_

Now that Michael thought about it, he wasn't eating properly. Hell, he didn't remember if he had eaten at all this week. God, this was a mess. He just wanted to get back to work already. 

_"I'll take your silence as a no, captain. Do you want me to drop by in the morning?"_

In all honesty, he wanted the professor there now because he _needed_ company, but he could wait until morning. He was going to try sleeping at least for a few hours.

"Yes, that would be good."

_"Okay, I have a class very early but after that, I'm free."_

"Okay."

_"Try to get some sleep, Quinn. Remember what sleep deprivation does to people, okay?"_

"I will."

And Michael did try his best to sleep but he didn't get even get a minute of peace. He stayed in his bed, trying to fight his body and mind from taking away the best side of him.

~ ● ~

Michael heard a soft knock on the door around 10 am and he figured out it was Hynek. He got out of the bed and threw the first pair of shirt and trousers he found, and answered the door.

"You look awful." Allen was wearing his typical coat, hat, white shirt and hideous tie, and the sun outside was shining through him.

"Good morning to you too, doc." Michael stepped out of the way to let the professor in.

"I brought you breakfast." Allen showed a bag in one hand and a cup of coffee on another. "I figured you wouldn't be up to make breakfast so…"

"Thank you." Quinn grabbed the items from his hand and when he opened the bag, the smell of bagels soothed his senses. Oh man, this was the smell of happiness. 

"And you didn't sleep not even an hour, am I right?" There was a severe look in the doc's eyes that surprised Michael. It was like the professor was watching over of a stubborn child.

"I… No, I didn't." Michael answered honestly and took a bite of his bagel. It tasted perfect. He sipped his coffee and let the food go down with it, settling in his stomach. He was definitely starving.

Allen looked around the room, stopping in front of his now mostly empty alcohol supply on the shelf. "You've been drinking more than usual."

"What?" Michael asked, his mouth full.

"Your house is smelling of alcohol, Quinn."

"No, it is not."

There, that severe look again. "Don't lie to me, captain." Allen chided, walking towards him. His expression soothed. "Tell me what is happening."

Michael took a deep breath, finishing the last bite of bagels and drinking a good amount of coffee. He wasn't going to be able to drink anything after he started opening up and being vulnerable.

"It's the nightmares, you know? I haven't had any of them in the last couple of years but ever since I started this time off, I just…"

"They came back. It's from the war, right?"

"Yes. I… My mind can't stop, doc. I need to keep active and working, because if I don't, my mind starts spinning and going crazy."

"But you need to rest, even the generals seem to think you are working way more than you should."

"That's what keeps me sane, doc!" He got up, feeling his chest and face burning. He _knew_ what was best for him, damn it! If he was saying he needed to work, then fucking stop denying a man his job. "Without it, all I'm left with are memories from the good men who fought right beside me and died! We won the war but they lost their lives. They are the losers and God forbids us from forgetting the great work they did for all of us! And when I don't remember about the guys, I remember about the sound of the bombs dropping, the smell of powder and blood everywhere. Then I hear my own heart, how desperate I was to just _survive_ . I'm not like most people who can go on vacation and be _happy_! I need to keep my mind working, otherwise I freak out!"

Michael noticed Allen didn't flinch not even once while he threw at the professor 1% of what affected him, what made him lose his sleep. He stood there strong and attentive, like a true partner. 

"You need help." Allen said softly.

"If the Air Force finds out about this, they'll do to me exactly what they did to Fuller." 

"I know." Hynek answered and shook his head. "But you still need help."

"I know that."

"Michael." That caught his attention - the doc had never called him by his first name. "I'm here. You were there for me when I needed, dealing with Fuller and lying for me when I stole the artifact, so the least I can do is to be here for you as well."

Michael looked at him surprised and blinked a few times before he broke down into tears. It was pathetic and ridiculous but he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face. Quinn couldn't look at the professor's face because of the shame but when a strong hand landed on his shoulder, holding him together, he didn't have to look up to know that he wasn't alone anymore in the world, God-knows-how-many millions of people out there and he had someone who cared about him right there next to him. 

"It's okay." Allen's soft voice echoed in his ears. "You are going to be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important notes at the end for when you finish reading the chapter.

Michael’s breathing started to speed again and he held Allen’s hand that was on his shoulder. He took one deep breath but it didn’t stop his heart from beating fast against his chest, so he closed his eyes again, hyperventilating.

“Michael, slow down. Breathe slowly.” Allen kneeled in front of him, grabbing his wrists. "This is just an anxiety attack."

"I'm not weak, Allen." He babbled, trying to get away from Allen's grip on him. "I just…"

Michael wanted,  _ needed _ for Allen to know that he wasn’t weak, that this was only temporary and that his Captain from the US Air Force would be back the next day. Except Michael couldn’t say that out loud, it sounded so much as a lie inside of his head that his mouth wouldn’t allow him to voice it to the doc. He wanted to say “ _ I just need to lay down” _ or “ _ I just need one day” _ but Michael knew that it wasn’t like that. He saw other men break during and after the war, and most of them took years to get back to a relatively normal life. Some said the men before him, who fought during WWI, were never the same again and Quinn knew for sure that was possible. 

He was fortunate, he knew that. He got back on his feet, worked for the Air Force, became a Captain… But how much of that was just an illusion? A pretty picture to hide the ugly face behind it?

Quinn noticed he was being laid down by Hynek and that the professor was saying something, only his mind had just shut down again, caught between so many thoughts. His body felt like he wasn’t really there, that he was watching everything except he was devoid of feelings. He remained there for what seemed like hours before Hynek came back with ice cubes.  _ Ice cubes? _

Allen opened his hands and placed a bag of ice cubes in them, and when Quinn closed them, he felt the harsh cold jolt him. Quinn started to feel something, as if he was being pulled back to the ground after flying so high. 

“Hold this, Michael. I know it’s too cold.” Quinn now could hear Allen’s soft voice saying. “But you need to feel like you are here.”

_ I am here. _ , Michael thought. The ice started to melt slowly in his hands, the cold water running down his arm. It made him awake and now he could hear, he could feel and he could focus on Allen again.

“Fuck.” Michael complained, taking a deep breath and feeling his lungs hurting. Actually, his whole body was hurting. “I’m going to die.”

“You’re not going to die.” Allen said, sat in front of him. “But I need you to remember nothing is going to happen with you. I’m here. I just need you to breathe.”

Michael remembered the breathing exercise for situations of panic he learned during his trainings and did it step-by-step. _Inhale slowly, filling your lungs, and then exhale. Do it once, do it twice, do it until you feel your breathing coming to a normal pace. Do it until you can start think normally. Do it until you feel like a proper human being again._

And things became less blurry because his breathing started to slow down. Allen was observing him and Michael was grateful that he was quiet, which was something so odd for the professor. Michael raised his body to sit on the couch and saw that Hynek was handing him a small pill and a glass of water.

“What is this?” Michael asked weakly.

“You need to rest, you know very well how tiring for the body is to have those types of attacks. And you haven’t slept properly last night” Allen argued but he didn’t directly answer Quinn’s question, but Michael trusted him with his life so he accepted the pill and swallowed it with a bit of water. “Lay down.”

Quinn was back with his head on the cushion but this time, after minutes there, he felt his body relaxing, his breathing slowing down and his heartbeat going back to normal. That was when Michael allowed the fatigue lure him into sleep. He closed his eyes, feeling them heavy and went to a dreamless sleep.

~ ● ~

When Quinn woke up again, it was dark and he was alone in the living room. He could hear someone on the kitchen and he assumed it must be Allen, so he raised slowly because he was still sleepy, and walked towards the light of the kitchen.

“Doc…” He said softly as he entered the room. Allen turned around and smiled. He was in the sink… doing the dishes? “What are you doing?”

“I’m tidying things up around here a bit. I didn’t have classes today and I called Faye to say I wasn’t going to be able to be at Blue Book HQ.” Hynek answered through the noise of water running down.

“You… You didn’t need to.”

“Of course I did.” Allen closed the tap and turned to him. “I know how tidy you are, Michael. I’ve seen it every time we share a room at hotels, you are so organized it makes me look like a teenage boy instead of a grown man.”

“Thank you.” Michael whispered and Hynek smiled.

“No problem.”

“So um…” Quinn approached the sink when Allen went back to the dishes. “What was that pill you gave me?”

“Oh, that was half of a sleeping pill. I brought it from home, Mimi took them for a while this year, so… I wasn’t sure you were going to need it or if it was right of me to give it to you, but -” Allen licked his lips nervously. “Anyway, sorry.”

“No, doc.” Michael said softly. “I wasn’t chiding you. I think you did the right thing, I needed the rest.”

“Good.” Allen smirked, still looking at the dishes. “You know the term for what you are suffering from, don’t you?”

“Panic.” 

“Battle fatigue.*”

“Oh.”

“After I joined Project Blue Book, I started attending these Psychology classes at the University. Not regularly, but whenever I had some free time, I attended. You know how I’m not that good at dealing with people…” He finished washing the forks and knives, and turned to Michael. “And in one of these classes, the professor was talking about what the soldiers experience after the war and it’s called ‘battle fatigue’. Anxiety is one of the symptoms, and that is what you had.”

“And did that professor say how to handle that?” 

“No but I think you should talk to her. I mean, I know it changes from one person to another and maybe medication could help.”

“No medication, it would absolutely affect my reflexes and I’m a pilot, remember?”

“Michael -”

“I know I need some help, Allen. I’ll just need to figure out what would help me that isn't medication.”

“Please, anything except alcohol.”

“Alcohol relaxes me.” Michael shrugged, taking the dishes from the counter and putting them to dry. 

“Did alcohol relax you in these days?” Allen raised the waste bin to show Michael several bottles of scotch in it. Michael turned away, upset. He shouldn’t be upset because Allen was trying to take care of him but he hated to be treated like a teenager. Hell, Michael was already alone in the world when he was a teenager and by the time he became a young adult, he went to the war. He sure didn't need someone telling him what to do or don't do.

“You have no right to judge me.” Michael whispered angrily. Allen gave him the “are you fucking serious?” look.

“I am  _ not  _ judging you, Michael. I am confronting you, it’s totally different.” Hynek answered matter-of-factly, putting away the trash bin. “But you wanna kill yourself alone? Suit yourself.”

Michael felt slightly knocked off his feet by the doc's answer and dropped his face on his hands. “No doc, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

Allen finished cleaning the sink and the counter before he dried his hands on the towel hung on the chair. Michael watched his movements, like a child watching his daddy at home, before he remembered one thing he had wanted to ask.

“What made you feel like yourself after Fuller?”

“I listened to you.”

That caught Michael off guard. “What?”

“You went there and reached out to me, talked to me about your experiences. I was not alone anymore in that moment because I knew you’ve been through worse. I guess… You weren’t healed the way you thought you were but you helped me heal. It was a big deal.”

Michael was wide-eyed, he didn’t expect to hear that. Not from Allen, anyway. He and the doc were friends by now, this was a fact. Michael cared for his safety, he had lied for Allen when he stole the artifact from the base and they were day-after-day dealing together with tough cases. In return, Allen had rushed to save him in the middle of the woods, and when Michael was about to do some epic shit and say in front of high-level officers from the Air Force that in Washington he had engaged with a UFO, Allen stepped up and said he was confused, that he didn’t know exactly what he was saying. Allen Hynek, through his scientific babble, saved Michael from becoming another Fuller. It was hard for the doc to be more affectionate towards anyone, so to hear him saying that… it meant a lot.

“Allen… I don’t know what to say.” Michael felt his voice stuck in his throat. 

“You don’t need to say anything, we’ve got each other’s back, remember?” Allen was finishing with the kitchen when he remembered something. “Oh, I forgot the bag of ice on the table!”

Quinn watched Allen rush through to the living room and come back with a bag of water. “Thankfully it was closed.”

“I was going to ask you about that… The ice, earlier.”

“This? I read somewhere that sometimes when a person is having an anxiety attack like that, you can give her a sensorial shock to make her get back to the moment she is in, you know, get rid of that feeling of numbness. Since it’s warm, I thought the ice could help. I know it sounds stupid.”

It didn’t. Michael remembered that the moment the ice was in his hands, he felt pulled back to the present, to the living room and the doc talking to him. It was like the sharp contrast of the ice on his warm and sweating hands had eased the numbness. 

“Look.” Hynek sighed, stopping in front of him. “I told Mimi you were having a rough day and she told me to invite you to have dinner with us. Would you like that? Joel would love it.”

Michael felt unsure about it because he didn’t know if he would be up to socialize while feeling like this. Granted, he felt better, just a bit hungover from the sensations of the anxiety attack but it was a long way from feeling safe to be around people. What if he had an anxiety attack there? 

“I’m not sure I’ll feel okay. What if I… snap there?”

“Snap?”

“Yeah, get anxious and all of that.”

“Let’s do this - if you feel anything whatsoever, you’ll wink at me twice and I’ll take you out of the room. What do you think? But only if you really want to, I won't force you to do anything you don't feel comfortable for.”

Michael thought that sounded smart so he nodded in agreement and Hynek smiled widely. “Good. Do you need some time to take a bath or…?”

“Yeah, sure… I’ll just clean up, put on some clean clothes and I’ll be ready.”

Quinn took one last look at Hynek before he went for his bath. It was oddly comforting to have someone else there in that empty house, doing the dishes and having a nice conversation. He had completely forgotten, in the middle of all Project Blue Book cases, how Doctor Hynek was a good man, a family man. 

The type of man Michael wanted so badly to be everyday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Battle fatigue is the obsolete term for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) or Combat stress reaction, used after the WWII and during the 50s and 60s. In the 70s, after Vietnam war, the term used by the military was changed to Posttraumatic Stress Disorder and int became official in 1980. Back then, it was thought it was just a fatigue caused by the battles and that the soldiers should just rest. There was also the belief this only affected war soldiers but later they expanded that concept. 
> 
> There is also another thing I want to address: Quinn's knowledge in Psychology. He said he studied a little Psychology and I believe him, especially when we learn later that he was an interrogator during the war, which means (and we all know that) that he is good at persuation. Period. But I think he doesn't have the formal or academic knowledge of Psychology overall, which also means that he doesn't know a lot of things, mainly things being discussed in academic circles. There is the fact that he knows Psychology from an Air Force standpoint. All of that to explain why he doesn't know the term "Battle fatigue" when Hynek talks about it. And of course, let me point out Allen diagnosed him without having the knowledge for that. It was a guess and a right one, but he is not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. Anyway, I'm trying to approach the subject knowing that society's POV of these problems in the 1950s was not the same of today. We have a long way to go but we have developed a lot in that matter. I'd like to think that Hynek, being an educated man, would have a better understanding of a few things - not perfect, tho.  
> One last thing: the ice thing is something I've heard quite a lot. Idk how "scientifically" correct it is but I know a lot of people (including me) have done that tactic to feel grounded during an anxiety attack, so... thought I might mention that.


End file.
